Happy Birthday, Harry
by Leela Starsky
Summary: A boy only turns sixteen once, and Fred, George and Ron decide that Harry needs to celebrate appropriately. Preferably with a 'boys day out'. But then Hermione and Ginny tag along.


A boy only turns sixteen once, and Fred, George and Ron decide that Harry needs to celebrate appropriately. Preferably with a 'boys day out'. But then Hermione and Ginny tag along.

 **Happy Birthday, Harry.**

 _By Leela Starsky._

"You can't go like that!" Ron said, grabbing Hermione's cardigan out of her hand and trying to cover his sister with it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny responded irritably, ducking out from under the cardigan and glaring at her brother.

Hermione stifled a smile as Ron, undaunted, attempted to hang the cardigan on Ginny's shoulders again. Like herself, Ginny was wearing a summer dress but, unlike her, Ginny was confident enough to go braless underneath the soft Indian cotton. According to Ginny, the shoestring straps demanded bralessness. Ron apparently did not agree.

"You can't go out like that!" he hissed, keeping his voice down so as not to draw attention to them.

"I bloody well can!" Ginny replied, then added nastily, "Just 'cause you feel the need to go about in neck-to-knees doesn't mean the rest of us have to!"

Ron blushed at his sister's reference to the long-sleeved, high collared shirts that had become an essential part of his dress code since they'd got back from Hogwarts, and Ginny stalked out the front door of the Leaky Cauldron before her brother could reply. Hermione simply sighed. For some reason Ron was deeply ashamed of the scars he now bore as a result of the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. She herself had only caught a glimpse of them since the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Summer or not, Ron had insisted on wearing long-sleeved jumpers until Molly Weasley had taken pity on him and given him some of his father's old shirts to wear. At least those were not as hot.

"Come on," Hermione said encouragingly, taking his arm to follow the others out the door, and Ron regarded her somewhat anxiously.

"Ginny's clothes are _fine_ ," she assured him, and looked to where Ginny, the twins, and Harry were waiting for them.

Today was Harry's birthday; his sixteenth. And Ron, Fred and George had let slip that, despite the threat of Death Eaters and You-Know-Who hanging over his head, they were taking Harry _out_ for the day. Ginny had promptly invited herself and Hermione along and, although the boys had looked none too enthusiastic, they had finally agreed that they would go into town early, then meet Ginny and Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.

Hermione had expected to find Harry surly and irritable, or at least withdrawn. That had been his general demeanour so far this summer, which was understandable, considering how hard the loss of Sirius had hit him. But, whatever Ron and the twins had done with him that morning, it seemed to have turned the normally sullen Harry around. He was happy; he was _laughing_. Maybe it was just being away from the Dursleys', but Hermione suspected that she and Ginny had missed something.

 _Boys' stuff_ , she told herself. _You really don't want to know_.

Except that she did.

And now, here they all were, on the Tube, braving the crowds of teenage Muggles, heading for central London with the general plan of going to the cinema. The train carriage was surprisingly full for midafternoon on a Wednesday. Full of raucous teenagers, her age or older. But then, Hermione Granger reminded herself, it _was_ Summer Holidays and these sorts of crowds had to be expected when the nation's youth were no longer restricted to establishments of education.

The train pulled into the station and they moved out with the crowd, and up to street level.

"I've heard _the English Patient_ is very good," Hermione offered as they headed up the steps to the cinema complex.

Ron snorted. "We're here for _Harry's_ birthday, Hermione. He doesn't want to spend it at a chick-flick!"

"I might," Harry put in devilishly, and all the Weasley's moved a step away from him as though worried that what ever he had might be catching.

George frowned and asked with mock seriousness, "Harry, you're not gay are you?"

Chortling, Harry assured him he wasn't then, with a wicked glance in Ginny's direction suggested that maybe they should see Disney's _Hunchback of Notre Dame_. Ginny tried to smack him, then gave chase as he fled up the steps, laughing.

" _Trainspotting's_ supposedly very good too," Hermione said, and this time Fred and George rolled their eyes.

"Yes, it is, Hermione," Fred agreed. "Have you seen it?"

"No-"

"Well we have."

"And we think Harry would benefit much more from an uplifting film-"

"rather than something depressing."

"He needs something mindless and fun."

" _Hamlet_?" Hermione suggested hopefully. The lead actor on the poster bore an uncanny resemblance to Gilderoy Lockhart, and she rather thought she would enjoy watching him.

The twins shared a look that said they thought she was a hopeless case, briefly regarded her sympathetically then moved to stand either side of a poster of the latest action adventure movie, _Independence Day_.

"Mindless," said Fred.

"Fun," said George.

"Cool!" said Ron, eyeing the poster with eager anticipation.

Hermione acquiesced politely but defended herself while they were waiting in line when Fred made a derogatory remark about her previous suggestions. "I guess I just prefer films that provide some mental stimulation," she said.

For some reason, Fred, George, Ron and Harry all found her comment unspeakably funny and couldn't stop themselves from sniggering.

"Specially when the lead looks like Lockhart, eh, Hermione?" Ron teased, and Hermione scowled at him, annoyed with him for being so astute for once. She also realised that there was some underlying joke to which she had not been privy, and couldn't help feeling irritated. Hermione eyed them suspiciously, again wondering what they'd been up to before she and Ginny had joined them.

Ginny must have sensed it too because she asked, "What were you lot up to earlier?"

"Nothing of interest to you," George assured her condescendingly.

"Just a little something for Harry from us in honour of his birthday," Fred explained.

"The same educational thing you did for Ron?" Ginny asked and Hermione couldn't help feeling amused and intrigued by the surprised and slightly panicked expressions on the boys' faces.

"How do you know about that?!" Ron demanded.

"Do I get the same 'education' when I turn sixteen?" Ginny wanted to know and Hermione was fascinated to see Ginny's brothers rendered momentarily speechless. Wondering what Fred and George would consider 'educational' definitely piqued Hermione's curiosity, and she decided that she would have to find out from Ginny exactly what this 'educational' gift was.

"Look," said Harry hastily, "the doors are open!"

Hermione and Ginny shared a conspiratorial glance that said they would get to the bottom of this little mystery, then followed the boys into the cinema.

Walking out of the cinema a couple of hours later, Hermione had to admit to having had a wonderful time and conceded happily to the twins that ID4 had been a rollicking good, fun film, in the best 'gung-ho' American tradition. Over a meal of McDonald's (the twins had insisted) they relived all their favourite parts over and over and, watching Ron and Harry laughing and carrying on, Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen Harry acting so… _normal_.

She glanced at Fred and George, wondering how she could thank them; how she could explain to the twins that what they had given Harry today – the freedom from his constant burden of grief and responsibility to be a normal sixteen year old boy - was more precious than any typical birthday gift. And, looking at them now: Fred wearing French fries like vampire fangs and hissing like same at anyone he thought might appreciate it, and George, who was seeing how many French fries he could fit in each nostril, Hermione wondered if they were even aware. But she guessed that, on some subconscious level, they must be. Why would they have done it otherwise?

She winced as George decided his nostrils had reached maximum capacity, pulled the chips from his nose and ate them. _It's a_ _ **boy**_ _thing_ , Hermione reminded herself and chose not to make an issue of it. They don't care about mess or bodily stuff. And somehow most of them manage to survive to adulthood.

She smiled, remembering her mother's advice as she packed to join Harry and Ron for the rest of the Summer, while lamenting how incomprehensible and immature boys were in reaction to Ron's latest faux pas: 'boys are really not that complex, Hermione. In fact, they're a lot like their genitals – if you know what to look for, it's all there on the surface for you to see.' Hermione had blushed profusely at the analogy but, looking at the boys around her now, at the joy they got from such simple and childish pleasures, Hermione thought she could understand what her mother had meant. In fact, looking at them now, and feeling as happy as she did, Hermione was almost shocked to realise that she found their silliness endearing. Then she worried that she was turning into Parvati and Lavender.

She looked at Ginny, who was being as unselfconsciously silly as the boys, and felt momentarily envious of her. How was it that Ginny could join in, yet she, herself, remained so reserved? Hermione guessed that Ginny's openness; her ability to give as good as she got, was the result of having so many older brothers, but it concerned the studious young woman that she might really be as stuck-up and snooty as everyone said she was.

Then she remembered the other piece of advice her mother had given her just before she'd left – that it was just as important for her to do normal sixteen year old girl stuff as it was to study. Her mother had then handed her a 12month supply of the Pill. Mortified at the implication, Hermione had tried to refuse it, but her ever-practical mother had insisted, refusing to believe that any potion the magical world could provide could be as effective at preventing conception, and citing the Weasleys as a perfect example. Hermione had been unable to deny her logic and, when her mother had then gone on to explain the Pill's usefulness in combating menstrual cramping the young woman had seriously considered starting it right away.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help wondering what Ron and Harry would think of her if they knew she had _that_ packed at the bottom of her trunk. What was the phrase Ron had used? 'Scarlet woman'?

Hermione smirked to herself then promptly choked on her drink as Ron leaned close to her and asked, "What are you looking so smug about?"

Once she'd stopped coughing, Hermione eyed him innocently and said, "Me? Smug?"

"Very," he assured her.

Hermione playfully shoved him with her shoulder and couldn't help feeling delighted when he shoved her right back. A minor tussle ensued, where they shoved each other back and forth, until Hermione protested a need to finish her food and they settled once more. Hermione was now almost painfully aware that, despite settling, Ron had not moved away, and she could feel his warmth all the way down her left side. The contact was intoxicating and addictive and, after a little while, Hermione indulged herself by casually leaning against him even more. Then promptly tingled all over when she felt him reciprocate. It was a wonderful, heady feeling and she couldn't help wondering if Ron felt it too.

They were heading back to the Leaky Cauldron when the sound of muffled, heavy rock music caught their attention. It was coming from a non-descript doorway across the street and, Hermione guessed, probably led down to one of the pit-like rock 'n roll establishments that London was famous for. She frowned as Harry paused to look at it, but her concern deepened dramatically when the twins joined him.

One glance at Fred and George told her they were up to no good, and she was already shaking her head when Fred asked, "You want to go in, Harry?"

"Sure!" Harry said eagerly.

"Make a nice capper to the day, I think," George said, then turned to his sister and asked, "You up for it, Gin?"

Ginny was looking wickedly eager. "Absolutely!"

"Come on then," said Fred taking Ginny's hand, and they hurried across the road.

"What? Wait-!" Hermione found herself being dragged across the road. "We're underage!"

"So?" Ginny said, and Hermione thought she detected irritation in her voice. "We're underage for a lot of things, Hermione."

Things like fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort. Ginny was right, Hermione decided. Compared to those, a night club was harmless.

A little later she was not quite as sure. Fred and George had vanished for a bit, only to turn up with a small bag of marijuana, which she and Harry had recognised immediately, much to the twins amazement.

"Dudley smokes it," Harry explained with amusement.

Hermione was intrigued to see Fred and George flinch as though he'd said 'Voldemort' and couldn't help wondering what the properties the herb had in the magical world.

"He and his friends forced me to smoke it with them one time last summer," Harry continued. "I think they thought it'd be funny to see me stoned. But I took one puff and vomited all over their stash."

"It made you _vomit_?" Ron repeated distastefully.

Harry nodded, sounding bemused as he said, "Then they beat me up for ruining £50 worth of 'weed'." He shrugged and smirked. "They never forced me to smoke with them again though."

Hermione eyed the twins balefully and said, "Please tell me you're not getting into drugs." Then added darkly, "Because I _will_ tell your mother, you know."

"Oh, get off your high horse, Hermione," Harry snapped irritably. "Half the people here are smoking it." He then gave the twins a wicked grin and asked, "Want to smoke it?"

Fred and George winced, and Hermione said incredulously, "No!"

Harry eyed her rebelliously and asked, "Well, what else do you suggest we do with it, Hermione? _Sell_ it?"

Hermione looked even more scandalised, if that were possible. "You said yourself it made you vomit!"

"That was just the first puff," Harry growled. "Dudley does it all the time. It's no worse than getting drunk."

"You're _fifteen_!"

"Excuse me?" Harry said with righteous indignation, then folded his arms over his chest and regarded her with justified affront. " _Birthday_?" he prompted, tapping his own chest and reminding her of why they were out together in the first place. " _Six_ teen thank you very much!"

"You're not of age!"

"But we are," George put in.

Hermione felt sure George was deliberately trying to rile her further, and she turned on him. "I _will_ tell your mother!"

Scowling, the twins had simply walked off, and were quickly lost in the crowd, and Ginny attempted to distract Harry by dragging him onto the dance floor. But it was quite obvious that Harry's brief good mood had gone.

Hermione couldn't help feeling responsible for souring Harry's mood, but she was not about to back down on this issue. If there was one thing her parents had drummed into her it was how dangerous drugs could be. And who knew what sort of effect they would have on witches and wizards?

She sighed, wishing they could leave. The unrelenting _thump_ , _thump_ of the music was reverberating through her chest and setting off a deep ache in the remnants of the wound Dolohov had given her in the Department of Mysteries. She rubbed it absently, shifted in an attempt to ease her discomfort and sighed again.

Then she felt Ron tentatively take her hand and looked at him. He gave her an awkward smile, but his expression told her that he felt just as uncomfortable here as she did. She gave his hand a grateful squeeze and he leaned close to her ear so she could hear him and asked, "D'you want to dance?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling; she understood exactly how much Ron dreaded the prospect of dancing, yet here he was willing to compromise, just to cheer her up. She shook her head, her smile widening at the unabashed look of relief that washed over his face. Then she asked, "Do you?"

Ron shook his head emphatically and she grinned again, then tugged on his arm and led him in the direction of the tables and chairs towards the back of the room.

They found an out of the way spot and settled there, resigned to waiting until the others had had enough. Thankfully, the music wasn't quite as loud back here, but it still made conversation difficult. And, if anything, it was hotter.

Suffering even more than she was from the stifling heat in the dungeon-like room, Ron had absently pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, and Hermione was surprised to see that the scars on his arms were barely visible. Doubtless the dim lighting helped to obscure the red welts, but Hermione suspected it was the over abundance of red-light in the room that washed them out.

Ron caught her frowning at his arms and started to pull his sleeves down again, but Hermione stopped him, and proceeded to trace the welts with her finger. She glanced at his face, unsure of his reaction to her blatant inspection of the scars, but Ron was watching her hand, his eyes obscured by his hair.

Staring at the scars, Hermione found herself momentarily overwhelmed by how close to death both of them had come in the Department of Mysteries, and her eyes welled with tears. It was literally dumb luck that they'd all survived, and the comprehension of how easily she could have lost her both her best friends; could have lost _Ron_ … What would she do without him?

Hermione tried to blink away the tears, attempted to focus on his arm rather than the scars, and couldn't help comparing her own slim forearm with his far more masculine one. She ran her finger along the veins visible under his skin, then smiled as Ron turned his hand palm up so she could follow the path of one vein to the underside of his forearm. His skin felt wonderfully warm and soft, and Hermione was shocked at her own physical reaction to touching him. She was tingling all over! How could simply touching Ron evoke such a response from her body?

She followed the vein to his wrist then ran her fingers across his palm to his fingertips, felt Ron's hand slide against her palm and opened her hand to its fullest extent, then almost swooned as his fingers returned the caress.

"Oh, tell me it isn't so!" A voice crowed from behind them, tone dripping with mock outrage and absolute glee. "Not the Weasel and the Mudblood!"

Hermione pulled her hand away from Ron's as they both turned and stared at the familiar figure of Draco Malfoy with horrified disbelief. He was leaning against one of the thick, ancient wooden posts that supported the upper level, looking at them with smug affront. And beside him was Harry.

Hermione's brain went into overdrive: how could Malfoy be here? Among Muggles! And what was _Harry_ doing with him?! Ron, however, was bristling at Malfoy's Mudblood slur, his attitude defensive and threatening as he surged to his feet and growled at the Slytherin, "Can't see Crabbe or Goyle behind you, ferret-boy."

Malfoy, who had been lounging against the post, stood up straight and shifted his weight defensively onto both feet, ready to meet any attack Ron might launch. But Hermione halted Ron with a hand on his arm and Malfoy hooted derisively, " _Man_ , are you whipped!"

Hermione's concern for Harry was increasing exponentially the longer she looked at him, and she asked, "Harry, are you ok?"

Harry was _not_ ok, of that she was certain. He was glowing slightly, and oozing… sparks. Tiny embers of red, gold and white were trickling down his neck, dripping off his elbows and, occasionally, rising from his scalp.

"What'd you do to him?!" she demanded of Malfoy.

Malfoy's smile slid into the realm of being sinister. "Gave him a little something to help him enjoy his night out," he replied snidely. "Poor boy's been sadly neglected-"

" _ **What did you give him?!**_ " Hermione shrieked, feeling like her anger was about to manifest somehow. At Malfoy _and_ Harry. What had Malfoy given him and why on Earth would Harry have accepted it? What could have possessed him to do something so _stupid_?

"Something to help me have _fun_ ," Harry told her sarcastically. "Do you think I deserve to have _fun_ , Hermione?" He threw an accusatory look at Ron, and Hermione realised that Harry must have been watching them for some time.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron demanded, but Harry ignored him.

"Ironic isn't it that the only one who thinks I deserve a little fun is _Malfoy_ …"

Hermione was dimly aware of the look of delighted awe that had taken up residence on Malfoy's face, but chose to disregard it. "Harry-" she started, but Harry cut her off.

"I am sick to death of this,' Harry ranted. "Of being everybody's bloody hero! Of _always_ doing the right thing." A trickle of blood-red sparks ran down his left arm, and Hermione had to force herself not to look at them. "Sirius played by the rules and what did that get him? _Twelve years in Azkaban!_ And now he's _dead_ , just like my parents; fucking _dead_! For what? For _this_?" He waved his hand at the writhing hedonistic crowd around them and a shower of blue-black sparks flew from his palm. "I'm sorry, but as far as I'm concerned, Voldemort is welcome to it!"

"Harry-"

"Shut UP, Hermione! I am sick to _death_ of you being my conscience!"

"Harry!" Ron snarled defensively, but Harry was too angry to care.

"Can't you take a hint?" he shouted. "I said, leave me alone! Go off and snog somewhere!"

"We weren't-"

But Harry didn't want to hear it. He stalked away through the throbbing crowd.

Hermione sensed Ron was about to launch himself at Malfoy and hastily stepped between them. Malfoy was watching Harry go with a look of shocked amusement.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Ron challenged angrily.

"I didn't do anything to him, Weasel King," Malfoy responded snidely. "I might have told him one or two truths; nothing earth-shattering-"

"What did you give him?" Hermione demanded. "What did he take?"

"Scar Head's had an epiphany, Granger, can't you tell?" he gloated. "And you know what is even more priceless? It's that he'd pretty much had it before I even said a word." Malfoy laughed and started to walk away, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"What did you give him?" she demanded again.

Malfoy shook her off, looking genuinely disgusted by her touch, and made a show of dusting his arm off before sliding his way into the crowd.

"Shit!" Hermione said, and turned back to Ron, who seemed too troubled to even remark on her swearing. "Come on," she said, grabbing his arm and starting in the direction Harry had gone. "We've got to find Harry."

Ron resisted her and said sourly, "Harry doesn't want to be found."

Hermione couldn't help feeling irritated by Ron's sudden desire to sulk and insisted, "Ron, Malfoy gave him some sort of drug-"

"Which Harry took because he wanted to," Ron snapped. "He wanted to take the other stuff too but you wouldn't let him."

Hermione took a step back from him, hurt. Was Ron suggesting this was her fault? But his expression became placating.

"Hermione," he said, reaching a hand towards her, "Harry needs this."

"But it's dangerous!" she shrieked, feeling even more aggravated when Ron seemed to sigh and hooked his thumbs through the belt on his jeans. Ron had no idea about Muggle drugs, but Hermione's parents had warned her about them all her life and, being in the medical profession, had explained the various repercussions. Hermione understood quite clearly how lethal the wrong amount could be. "We don't know what he's taken or what it'll do to him!" When Ron still didn't look suitably alarmed she said, "Ron, it could _kill_ him!"

The concern in his eyes deepened and he glanced at the crowd around them then looked back at her. "Let's find Fred and George," he said. "And hope Ginny's with them."

They found Ginny, dancing exuberantly in the middle of the dance-floor with Fred and George, who seemed to be exulting in the music. They were each holding a bottle of water in one hand, and one of the twins splashed some on his own face as they approached.

Hermione didn't waste a minute; she pushed her way through to the closest twin, grabbed his arm and yelled to be heard over the music, "We have to leave! _Now_!"

The twin, whom she recognised as George by the mole on his neck when he pulled her into a full-body hug and proceeded to dance with her by swinging her from side to side, put his mouth close to her ear and yelled, "Hermione, I love you dearly, but you have _got_ to learn how to relax and have fun!"

Hermione shoved at his chest in an attempt to get him to release her, tried to ignore the stabbing pain from the wound in her own chest, and yelled, "We have to go! Harry's taken something-"

She was interrupted by Fred shouting, "Way to go, George!" and slapping his twin on the back. A small shower of sparks flew from both twins and Hermione goggled at them for a moment, then anger gave her the strength to shove George hard enough that he let go of her.

"What have you taken?!" she shrieked, then looked over at Ginny to see if she was raining sparks as well. Ginny was scowling at Ron who had stopped her dancing and was dragging her towards them.

The twins shared a look then Fred said, "Stop panicking, Hermione; it's nothing dangerous."

"Oh, really?" she yelled sarcastically. "Have you seen Harry lately?"

"We didn't give Harry anything!" George protested.

"No," Hermione agreed sourly. "But _Malfoy_ did."

" _Malfoy?_ " Fred exclaimed, looking around for the blonde Slytherin.

"What's that git doing here?" George said.

"Same thing you are, apparently!" Hermione shouted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Having a good time!"

"What'd he do to Harry?" There was genuine concern in Ginny's voice, but Hermione was too angry to care.

"Gave him some of this," she said, grabbing George's wrist and shaking it frantically. A few red sparkles dribbled out. "Except Harry was ten times worse."

"It's just Ecstasy, Hermione," Fred assured her. "It won't hurt him-"

In perfect counterpoint, there was an explosion of sparks several yards away. Red, gold and violet shot into the smoke-filled air over their heads and a great cheer went up from the crowd of people closest to it. Fred and George looked deeply impressed and, to Hermione's eternal irritation, somewhat delighted.

"That wasn't Harry," Fred said, then looked at his twin and smiled. "Was it?"

"The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad will be swarming all over this place any minute now!" Hermione yelled. "We have to leave RIGHT NOW."

Another explosion of sparks went up, like veritable fireworks, and again the crowd cheered.

"She's right," George decided, heading in the direction of the sparks.

"At least he won't be hard to find!" Fred shouted cheerfully, following him, then turned back to add, "Meet you outside!"

"Thank god we're out of there!" Ron said with feeling, as they stepped out into the relatively cool air in the street.

Hermione was looking anxiously up and down the dark street, expecting to see wizards Apparating into view at any minute. "We are going to be in _such_ trouble," she moaned, then abruptly turned on Ginny and demanded, "Did they give you any?"

"Of course they wouldn't have!" Ron protested automatically. "Fred and George may be irresponsible, but they wouldn't give Ginny drugs." Ginny said nothing, and Ron frowned at her. "Would they?"

Ginny folded her arms defensively across her chest and scowled. "Of course not!" she said.

Hermione had a strong suspicion that Ginny was lying, but chose to let it go. Arguing about it in the middle of a Muggle street was hardly appropriate. She looked anxiously at the door again, willing Harry and the twins to hurry up.

It seemed to take forever, and Hermione was seriously considering going back inside to find them, when finally the door swung open with a crash that echoed down the street, and Fred, George and Harry tumbled out, laughing somewhat hysterically.

"Elvis has _left_ the building!" George shouted, quoting the movie they had seen earlier and triumphantly punching the air. A punch that was accentuated by a shower of gold sparks.

Harry laughed and _whooped_ joyously into the air, and sparks flowed off him like a veritable waterfall. He and the twins all paused to look guiltily at Hermione, then fell about laughing and took off down the street at a run, heading for the Leaky Cauldron, which was thankfully only a few blocks away. Ginny flung a wicked grin over her shoulder at Ron and Hermione, then ran after Harry and the twins, a small shower of green sparks trickling out of her hair and trailing in her wake.

Ron glared at the green sparks and growled, "Ginny!" He paused long enough to grab Hermione's hand, then took off after them.

Hermione could feel amusement creeping in around the edges of her panic as she ran. Harry, Ginny and the twins were leaving a trail of what looked like fairy dust all the way to the Leaky Cauldron, but she was comforted to see that it was vanishing as she passed. The thought that they might actually get away with this as far as the Ministry of Magic was concerned, was tempered by the knowledge that Molly Weasley would be waiting for them when they got home. And, of the two, Molly Weasley was far more terrifying. _If_ she found out about the night club and the drugs…

Knowing she had that to threaten the twins with, Hermione found herself grinning as she and Ron caught up with the others outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry eyed her warily, as though he expected her to start yelling at him, and her smile widened. Without letting go of Ron's hand, Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry's cheek. He seemed puzzled and she said fondly, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

 _Fin._


End file.
